


Nights in White Satin

by mssrj_335



Series: FinnPoe Purple Prose [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bossy Finn, Bottom Finn (Star Wars), Established Relationship, It’s all a bit contrived really, M/M, Marcan is basically Marijuana, PWP, Poe Dameron likes Orders, Purple Prose, Recreational Drug Use, Shameless Smut, Shotgunning, Some pet names, Strange-ish descriptions, Top Poe Dameron, Your writer might’ve been a little stoned, dreamy vibes, kind of lol, kinky undertones, look the boys get a little high and fuck what more do you want lol, some anyway, totally self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:20:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24141952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssrj_335/pseuds/mssrj_335
Summary: Finn decides to include an experiment while he and Poe have a little fun. The result is better than he could've hoped
Relationships: Finn/Poe Dameron, Poe Dameron/Finn
Series: FinnPoe Purple Prose [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1744870
Comments: 8
Kudos: 79





	Nights in White Satin

**Author's Note:**

> don't get me wrong, these boys switch in my world. but i was complaining about the lack of bottom finn so i decided to write some into the world
> 
> name taken from the moody blues song of the same name, def the inspo for this mess
> 
> enjoy!!

The watchlights are fading, gloom gathering in the corners of the room like the heat of Poe’s tongue in the corners of his mouth. The day is spent and it’s time to try something new. It started just the way he planned, Poe pliant and warm beneath him. Now, the slide of Poe’s cock is pressing hot, hedonic, completely self-indulgent at the non-existent pace he’s set. Finn rolls his hips so slow there’s an eternity in the way Poe moans, feeling the elusive burn in muscles tight in his hips, his back, in Poe’s thighs.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmurs 

Poe _shakes,_ pants, hands fisted white, feet braced against the mattress, slipping on silky syncloth. Poe’s hold on the headboard is like durasteel but the grip on his composure looks like it’s hanging by a thread. Finn slides his hands up Poe’s chest, around the curve of his jaw and the column of his neck, just because he can. He likes the way Poe’s skin looks against his, red under his tan, flushed and wanton, betraying all the control he’s trying to hold on to. Finn reaches just past Poe’s head to the bedside table, flames an igniter over the tip of a Marcan cigarra between his lips. Blue-grey smoke slips into his lungs, almost as heady as the gasp escaping Poe’s teeth. Hold, his head spins a bit, he rolls his hips as the breath escape him and he swears he can see stars twinkling in the bedside lamp.

The movement feels like a whole ocean now, the Marcan going straight to his head. It’s sensation as he’s never known it, hurtling sky-high. He takes another hit, holds it behind his teeth, leans down. Poe’s mouth is needy against his, the breath he takes expanding his chest so far it makes Finn’s lungs ache. It kind of works, only some smoke escapes. He teases his hips again, a thin strand of smoke connecting them. He smirks, feeling Poe’s cock jump inside him, and says,

“Hold that as long as you can.”

He smears a kiss on the edge of Poe’s jaw, in the skin above Poe’s racing pulse. If he thought Poe’s skin was hot before, it’s burning like coaxium now. As he sinks his teeth into the tendon standing taut there, he hears Poe lose his breath, smells Marcan smoke mixed with Poe’s sweat. His tongue laves the hard line of Poe’s collarbone, all the way to the meat of his chest, and sets his teeth again. Poe shivers, Finn feels his arms jerk, and he peels himself away.

“Don’t let go of that,” he reminds, sotto voce.

Poe’s eyes are impossibly wide, darker now where the only illumination is yellow lamplight in night’s grey tones. He nods enthusiastically, biting his lip as if to say, “Yeah, ok, I know,” and it makes a tenebrous laugh bubble out of Finn’s chest. He flicks his ash on the floor; he’ll clean it later. He fits the cigarra between Poe’s lips, careful not to burn, and nods. Poe takes another deep, slow breath. His stomach spasms, trying not to cough on the smoke, smooth as it is. Finn grins and takes another hit. Euphoria builds tight at the back of his skull and he finds himself nearly floating out of his body. It’s so strange, the way it looks. He can see Poe stretched out beneath him, desperate, but he can almost see himself from another plane, thighs spread wide over Poe’s hips. He lets his breath out the same instant Poe does, a soft tandem sigh.

_Who’s idea what this?_ His, he thinks. He’s not sure right now. Snap may have suggested it as an _extracurricular_. Just to try. To experiment. And why not? It’s not something the First Order would’ve allowed and Poe seemed all in for it. He tips the cigarra back onto the side table, plants the heels of his hands on Poe’s chest, watching him watch with hooded eyes. Finn pulls himself up, feeling Poe’s cock burn through him like some kind of starlight. At the top of his arc, he wavers, holding them both at the edge of sense and mindlessness. He’s waiting. It’s not often he gets like this but when the mood takes him, Poe knows what he’s waiting for, as happy to give as he is to take. His whole body is practically twitching with it. Finn knows him inside and out, intuitively piecing him together better than any stratagem. They’re a truth he knows beyond anything else, any knowledge of self or letter of language. Finn knows just how to move, where to touch, even if they’re floating several meters above the bunk together.

The catch is someone has to ask.

It’s a little game, one of a few. Sometimes Poe wins, sometimes he does. Tonight, he’d like to win. He sinks back down, tortuously slow. It pushes a deep groan from Poe’s mouth, teeth bared and eyelids fluttering. His forearms, biceps tighten, pulling himself up the bed as if it would pull Finn faster down. Finn smirks again. A tight clench earns him a hiss and a desperate shiver. Stars, he wants just as much, more, sensation kaleidoscoping, lightning flashing in him. Up, just as slow, and he lets his head fall back on his shoulders. Down again, this time Poe’s hips thrust up to meet him and he nearly loses it right there.

“Hey,” he chastises, digging blunt nails into Poe’s chest, “what do you say?”

“Kriff, why d’you make me say it?” Poe grinds out.

Finn rises to his knees, Poe nearly slips out and he _whines_ , but on he goes. He leans forward, dips his tongue into Poe’s mouth leisurely slow, fists a hand tight in Poe’s hair. With a gentle twist, Poe’s neck is bare, exposed. Finn fits his teeth there again.

“You like it.”

“I do, I really _really_ do.”

Finn’s tongue traces the shell of Poe’s ear and he softly says, “So give it up,” punctuating the idea with a thrust.

“I—ah! I think I’ve lost the last three times,” Poe moans. “ _Oh_ , that’s not faaa—”

Another roll of Finn’s hips draws the last words into nothing but vowels. “Really, I think we both win in the end.” He makes sure his voice is reasonable, tempting. And really is it such a lie? “Besides, it wasn’t three times.”

“No?” Poe’s breath stutters with the motion of Finn’s thighs, the clench of his ass.

“Yeah, I paid a tax a few mornings back. Caught me lookin’ at you again.”

Poe groans and thrusts again, but Finn settles back on his legs and holds him firmly in place. That doesn’t stop his wandering hands from scraping Poe’s chest, tweaking a nipple.

“I’m sorry I ever made that stupid game,” Poe gasps.

“No you’re not,” Finn groans back.

“ _Kriff,_ shit—ah, you’re right. You’re so, so right. Finn, please—”

_Oh, there it is_.

“Please what?”

“Jus—fuck me _please—”_

That’s enough for him. He adjusts, steadies himself, pulls up. This time, he strikes home again hard, rolling deep and as fast as his body will let him. Enough teasing. And Poe did ask so nicely. He’s still holding onto the headboard, thighs then stomach clenching, jaw dropping and eyes flying wide. _Yes, there it is_. That’s what he’s been looking for. Everything is floaty at the edges, the burn in his thighs transmuting to a burn of Marcan pleasure in his spine. Poe’s cock is so hard, so _there_ , splitting him wide open, sliding so easy Finn feels every shift of his weight, every ripple of motion. Poe’s running his mouth again and honestly, Finn never wants him to stop.

“Finn, oh kriff _Finn_ just like that—”

“ _Yes._ ”

”Don’t stop, sweetheart please please don’t stop, you feel so good, _ah_ —”

“ _Shit_ , gods- _damn_ your mouth, Dameron.”

Poe chokes on that. “I can’t—”

“C’mon, tell me,” Finn pants, “can’t what?”

Poe moans deep in his chest, and Finn swears he can feel the wave of it tremble through Poe’s body into his like some ebullition of motion, churning and expanding and muted.

“I can’t wait to touch you, can I please? I wanna watch you fall apart up there, I wanna see how deep I can get, fuck I wanna taste you, _please—_ ”

Finn loses that game. He’s sucked down, thrusts slow and deep, lost in Poe’s mouth and the hot slide of his tongue and his cock. Stars, he _loves_ this, the slide the burn, the feeling of Poe under him and in him. He wants Poe’s hands. They won’t last a minute, Poe’s already teetering on the edge, Finn can feel it. It’s in the sharp edge of his breath, the way tremors run through him. _Kriff_ —

“Hands,” is all he manages to get out.

But, it’s enough. And this is better than he would've ever hoped. Poe releases the headboard with a clack, hands coming around to squeeze Finn’s ass and knead the muscle of his hips, to pull and push and touch and tease. He can’t breathe, Poe’s too much, he shakes back and lets Poe do the rest. Their hips are uncoordinated now, sloppy, running on instinct, fucking in the most basic sense of the action. Poe’s hand circles his cock, Finn clenches hard. His vision wobbles, he nearly closes his eyes. But Poe’s flushed from head to toe, gorgeous in the yellow light, sensations running so high he’s sure he’s never going to come down from there. Poe’s lips are parted, breathing hard, “Can I?” rasps out.

Finn can’t do anything more than nod and that’s it. He fists his hand with Poe’s around his cock, together they pull once, twice, until every muscle in his body seizes. A hot, rough shout scrapes his throat and he’s soaring, Poe just behind. The yellow of the room turns white, red in Poe’s skin for an instant grey. The world quakes, never seeming to end, shakes all the color from the corners of their room, shudders until gravity resumes and sucks him down so hard all he can do is fall forward. He’s panting, skin sticking, Poe’s arms come up around him and hold him steady as the world finally tunes back in.

Poe slides him off and to the side, separating them with a sound halfway between a groan and a hiss. Finn’s still panting, and so is Poe, and for a few minutes all they can do it lie there together. When he can feel his fingers, Finn turns over and grins at Poe, pillowing his head between Poe’s shoulder and chest.

“Whatcha think, hotshot? Like that way to fly?”

Poe snorts, fingers coming up to tease at Finn’s twists. “I wouldn’t do it every day,” he says, “I think I’d die. But we should definitely, _definitely_ , do that again.”

Finn rolls a quarter turn, slotting a leg between Poe’s and laying a kiss on his throat. “Sounds good to me.”

**Author's Note:**

> vague references to some other fics i've written, kudos to you if you've read those! thanks to gmariam for the idea!
> 
> comments are always welcome!


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